


Baby, You Can Pick Me Up Any Day

by mageicalwishes



Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [16]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Carry On Countdown 2020 (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown Day 16, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Meme/Crack, Oovoo Javer Vine, Overworked PA Simon, Short & Sweet, Uber Driver Baz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mageicalwishes/pseuds/mageicalwishes
Summary: Oovoo Javer? Oovoo Javer. AKA: Baz is Simon's slightly dickhead-ish Uber driver."I kept trying to talk to him - Asking about his night, and whether he always listens to Classical music, or if it was just for show - but he ignored me. Staring unamusedly at me in the mirror, eyebrow raised and lips tilted downwards. He got 2 stars for that trip."Carry On Countdown, Day 16 - Meme/Crack
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027147
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	Baby, You Can Pick Me Up Any Day

**Simon**

The day I met him, everything was awkward. _Basilton._ My driver. 

His profile came highly rated, and his picture was … nice. But, he turned out to be a bit of a dick. 

I kept trying to talk to him - Asking about his night, and whether he always listens to Classical music, or if it was just for show - but he ignored me. Staring unamusedly at me in the mirror, eyebrow raised and lips tilted downwards. 

He got 2 stars for that trip.

The next day, he answered my request again. Parking his unreasonably sleek, black car in front of my flat, just as it turned 2AM. Eyes fixed forward, and frown firmly in place (He wasn’t much of a charmer, at first). 

He got 3 stars for that trip. 

And, after that, it became routine. Every time Davy called me out for one of his _absurd_ late-night favours (That he _insists_ all PA’s do unpaid. Which I _know_ is bullshit), Basilton was there. _My own stoic chauffeur._ **  
**

The first day he talked, beyond his normal cursory ‘Hello’, was a revelation. 

“Don’t you ever sleep?” He’d asked. And fuck, I nearly _died._ He sounded so _posh_ \- So lavish - his voice all Champagne and Velvet. 

“I have to work. And … you’re awake too. So, you’re really no better than me.” 

He’d hummed at that, dismissively. So, I just kept rambling on, hoping to spark some kind of lasting conversation. We’d been seeing each other most days for, like, 3 weeks at this point. So, I didn’t think it was weird to want to get to know him a little. But … apparently he did. 

“Are you always this _chatty?_ ” He’d asked. _The indignant bastard._

“I don’t know. Are _you_ always this freakishly quiet? It’s a bit creepy, to be honest.” 

He flicked his eyes over to me in the rear-view mirror. Cool, unbothered grey, assessing my reflection. _“I_ respect people’s boundaries. Give them space to breathe. Perhaps you should try it?”

“Knob,” I chuffed (Failing to consider that, he could probably report me to Uber for being rude, and get me perma-banned, or something. Which would be completely shit, ‘cause then I’d have to go back to using Taxis, which would probably leave me bankrupt). “I just wanna’ talk to you a bit. Come _on_ , Basilton. Aren’t you _bored_ of sitting in silence?” 

“Don't call me that, _Snow._ ” 

I smiled at the back of his seat. Pleased to have finally drawn a reaction from him. “Why not? That’s your name, isn’t it?” 

“Technically.” 

“Technically? How can it _‘technically’_ be your name?” 

He turned his head around (Which he really shouldn’t have, considering that the light wasn’t even red. Which was _definitely_ worth dashing a star, me thinks) and scowls. 

“It _is_ my name. But, I prefer to be called Baz.” 

“Oh. Well. Call me Simon, and I’ll call you Baz.” 

“This isn’t a negotiation, Snow. If you insist on talking to me, you could at least have the decency to refer to me correctly. Alright?” 

“Fine,” I huffed. “But I’m gonna make you call me Simon, somehow. Whether you like it, or not!” 

He got 4 stars for that trip. **  
**

As it turns out, getting him to call me Simon was easy enough. All I had to do was cry (Although, that wasn’t what I had planned. I was just gonna annoy him into saying it, to be honest). 

About 2 months after he relented to my nattering (In which we’d had many long, not-really-meaningful conversations about our jobs and families. Our friends and shared television interests), I ended up breaking down in the back seat of his car.

I probably should’ve just walked home - Since I knew that I wasn’t going to make it without blubbing. But, I didn’t really want to risk getting shanked, just so I could preserve my dignity. And … more than that, I just didn’t want to be alone. And Baz … Well, he was the closest thing I had to a friend (What with Penny and Agatha both thriving in America.) 

He was happy to see me, as he always was at that stage. But, I’d never seen a smile drop as fast as when he turned around and saw the state of my face - All reddened and wet. 

_“Simon,"_ he’d breathed. “What’s wrong?” 

I looked up at him - At his forehead creased with worry, and that long-lost frown plastered across his face, once again. And, I knew that it was a mistake to have sent out a driver request. 

“I - I don’t. Davy. Penny. _Everything.”_

That’s all I managed to get out before I was properly sobbing. 

Without hesitation, he’d unbuckled his seat belt, and got out of the car. Pulling open the passenger door and squatting down besides me, hovering his hand above my thigh. _So close._

“Shove over, Snow. We can sit here for a little while, alright?” 

I did as I was told, and he slipped in besides me. 

“Do you … want to talk about it?” 

I shook my head, and he didn’t push it further _(Thank, God)._ Simply, sitting besides me, while I waited for the storm to pass. And letting me lie my heavy head against his shoulder, until the noise died down. 

“Hey, Snow,” He’d whispered, breath tickling the shell of my ear. “Want to go and get some scones? Ebb’s café is open for at least another half an hour, so we can make it if we leave now.” 

“How do you even know I like them?” I’d asked, scrubbing at cheeks, in a failed attempt to remove the evidence of my embarrassment. 

“Because,” he drawled, leaning his face in towards me - My heart jumping up into my throat, foolishly, at his proximity. “ _I’m_ the one who has to hoover scone crumbs out of my backseats everyday, you _menace.”_

I’d returned home, well fed and happy, that night. _Happier than I’d been in a long time._

So, he got 5 stars for that trip. 

* * *

After that things just … happened. First, he’d given me his number - ‘Only that way, Uber won’t take a cut, and you’ll get me directly,’ he’d said. _The sly fox._ He only managed to keep up the the false ‘strictly professional’ pretence for a week, before he cracked and asked me about my opinions on Jane Austen (Of which, I had none). And then … he invited me out with him. 

I could tell he was nervous about it. Since he kept on assuring me that he only meant it in a friendly way - That he wasn’t pushing me into anything. But, he ended up taking me to the most expensive Italian restaurant in town, so I made my own assumptions. 

Then, a few days later, I kissed him. We were walking home from town (After a trip to the cinema to watch the new Marvel film), when he lobbed a snowball at the back of my head. And then, before I even knew what was happening, we’d broken out into a full on _war._ Cheeks red, and chests heaving with the exertion. The hot mist of his laughter visible against the chilled winter air. He was beaming over me - Eyes bright and crinkled - and I just … did it. _Finally._

And now we’re here, in our own little flat, being _proper boyfriends._ Pushing his grabby hands away from me, and squabbling over contact names (Because _apparently,_ having him saved as _‘Oovoo javer’_ is insulting, given the fact that I’m entered as _‘love’_ on his phone). 

I threaten him with a 1 star boyfriend-rating for being stroppy. But, he manages to snog his way back up to at _least_ a 4 by the end of the evening.

_He’s definitely the hottest Uber driver I’ve ever had._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed :) Comments and kudos, appreciated.  
> My Tumblr: [Link text](https://mageicalwishes.tumblr.com/)  
> Inspired by this prompt from @cyberbullyingz on Tumblr: [Link text](https://cyberbullyingz.tumblr.com/post/188754717582/fanfic-au-its-an-uber-au-character-a-always)  
> 


End file.
